


Nightmares

by Synapse



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Abrupt Ending, Book 9: The Dying of the Light, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, I can't do titles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 23:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11091822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synapse/pseuds/Synapse
Summary: It's been a long time since Fletcher's mom died, but his need for support didn't die with her.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Last Stand of Dead Men, some minor ones for The Dying of the Light.  
> Set during TDotL or thereabouts, when the Monster Hunters, Vex, Saracen, Dai Maybury and Fletcher are hunting down the Remnants.

He’s lying in bed, in this wonderfully soft hotel bed that just seems to get better the more he lies there. It’s comfortable, and even though he can hear the others talking in low voices he really, really just wants to go to sleep, because it’s been a long day and he’s tired. 

So when Vex glances over at him and says he can stay where he’s at, he doesn’t protest. This is, after all, the first time in four days he’s been able to sleep in a real bed. A sleeping bag just doesn’t cut it. 

Then Donegan comes over and asks him if he’s going to sleep in his clothes, and then have to wear those same clothes tomorrow, and even though he’d really rather go to sleep right now he still gets up and changes and brushes his teeth and then crawls under the covers. Sleep doesn’t take long to find him, and soon enough he’s drifting back through a dreamworld. 

Then the nightmares find him.

Fletcher isn’t a stranger to nightmares. Not too many sorcerers aren’t, given what kind of life most lead. But he’s still young and the nightmares are still terrifying, so he knows no one can blame him when he wakes up in a cold sweat, shivering in fear. 

He can’t remember what the nightmare was about, but it’s left a longing in his heart that he can’t seem to shake. He sits there for a while, wondering what’s wrong with him. It’s not wanting, and it’s not confusion at the world, even though those two are things that haunt him frequently. No, it’s something close, but different. 

It’s almost three in the morning when he finally realizes that it’s loneliness, longing for company that’s no longer there, a friend who’s gone, and even though Vex and Gracious are in the room with him he still feels as if he’s sitting on his own personal island in the middle of nowhere. 

He’s not sure where the tears come from, but come they do, and even though he tries to hide his sniffles, he still sees Vex stirring, sitting up, a dark outline in a pitch-black room, lit by the glowing numbers on the clock. 

Fletcher watches him for a moment, half-hoping that maybe the older man will go back to sleep, half-hoping he won’t, wondering why he’s up.

Then Vex is next to him, reaching a comforting arm around his shoulders, and Fletcher’s barely aware of the fact that he’s sitting up and still crying, more openly now. 

Vex asks him what’s wrong and Fletcher can only shake his head slightly, and Vex nods in understanding and lets him lean into him and just sits there, a comforting figure in the darkness. 

After a while Fletcher’s sniffles fade away, and by now Gracious is up too, sitting on the end of the bed and watching in gentle concern. It’s not something Fletcher ever expected from the Monster Hunter; he’s never seen him- or Vex- be so gentle, even when tending wounds. 

“Do you do this often?” he asks, wondering why they seem so familiar with it.

“Sometimes,” is Dexter’s answer. “Nightmares aren’t something that you grow out of.” His eyes are dark with memory. 

Fletcher wonders why, but realizes he doesn’t really care, not anymore. Now he’s just embarrassed at his tears, embarrassed that he woke Dexter and woke Gracious and wishing that this night had never happened, wishing that maybe things wouldn’t be so crazy. 

Dexter seems to recognize the emotion, and squeezes his shoulder briefly before standing. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t want to know the number of times I’ve been up to help Saracen or Ghastly or…” His voice fades, and he turns and goes back to his bed, quiet. 

Gracious hesitates before getting up. “Bad dreams happen to all of us,” he says after a moment. “I’ve tried working on something to make them stop, but if there’s one thing magic’s weird around, it’s the subconscious.” With that comforting remark he flicks off the light that Fletcher didn’t notice being turned on, and a moment later the bedsprings creak as he resettles himself. 

Fletcher slips back under the covers, but he still can’t sleep. It’s almost five before he finally drifts back off into an uneasy doze. 

The next morning there are dark circles under his eyes, more pronounced than they had been yesterday, and he still can’t seem to shake a sense of unease as he splashes cold water on his face and spikes up his hair. 

By the time he’s downstairs the others are already having breakfast, making up food in the hotel dining room and talking quietly. Saracen and Donegan look up at his approach, and he can see the mild concern in their gaze. 

“Morning,” he says roughly, pulling out a chair and snatching a pastry from the plate in the center of the small table his traveling group is sitting at. 

The response is the usual banter, but he can’t help but notice the looks that they’re shooting him when they think he isn’t looking, the concerned ones that say they know something’s up. But none of them ask him, or say anything about last night, not even Gracious, and so Fletcher is mildly surprised when Saracen pauses in the middle of a lecture about capturing fire demons and looks at him and asks what’s up. 

He blinks in surprise. “Um… nothing.” 

“That morose look you’ve been wearing all morning doesn’t look like nothing,” Donegan notes. “Seriously. What’s wrong?” 

Fletcher looks down at his bagel, suddenly not feeling very hungry. “Didn’t sleep well.” 

A murmur runs through the group, and he catches Vex’s searching gaze. 

“Nightmares,” he elaborates, not wanting to but knowing he has to anyways. 

“Do you remember anything?” Saracen asks, sitting back in his chair. “Monsters, bloody daggers, falling trees, terrifying baby killer rabbits...?” The last is meant as a joke, but Fletcher can’t laugh. 

“No,” he says, not bothering to rack his brains. He already knows the dream’s gone, and he doesn’t want to remember anything anyways. “Just… feelings.” 

“What kind of feeling?” asks Vex. 

Fletcher bites his lip. He doesn’t want to talk about it. But the others won’t stop pressuring him until he does, and besides, some part of him wants to get this heavy sensation off his chest. 

“Um. Loneliness,” he says, after a moment. “I don’t know, sad? Depressed?” 

“Loneliness?” Donegan asks, frowning. “Why… oh.” 

Gracious frowns at him. “What am I missing?” 

Donegan shrugs and traces a finger through a spill of sugar on the table. “Fletcher… you didn’t happen to be good friends with anyone in who died during the war, did you?”

Fletcher blinks and looks at him. “Yes,” he says slowly, remembering. “Ghastly. Hayley. Tane. A lot of others.”

Saracen and Dexter both wince slightly at Ghastly’s name, but neither react further. 

Donegan nods. “That’d be why, probably. You’re just missing people. You get used to it.” 

“As much as you can,” mutters Gracious. 

“Nightmares, bad dreams, whatever you want to call them- they’re natural,” Saracen says, catching Fletcher’s attention. “So are the emotions afterwards. No decent sorcerer hasn’t had them. It’s just a sign that you’re human, like anyone else.”

“Friends will help you get through them,” continues Dexter. “Sticking around family. Working with people. Talking. Avoiding it doesn't help. It just keeps festering.” 

“You don’t want to let it just sit,” warns Gracious, and he’s as grave as Fletcher has ever seen him. “It gets nasty if you do. Trust me. You don’t want that kind of thing sitting on your mind.” 

“Anything sitting on your mind is something to be worried about,” points out Donegan. “Brains are soft, right? I think something sitting on it would squish them.” 

The conversation spins off in another direction, ending when the hotel manager comes up and asks them to be quieter. It’s late in the morning already, and the group gathers their bags and step outside the hotel, moving out of sight. They link up, Dai on Fletcher’s right, Vex on his left. 

“Where to?” he asks, knowing but asking anyways, just for the sake of familiarity.

Saracen tells him the name of the town and Fletcher nods and remembers the bustling roads and the abandoned alley, and a moment later they’re standing in the alley and walking out into the street. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping that the little lecture on feelings was accurate, I was too lazy to research. Also, I can't do endings- sorry about the abruptness.  
> Constructive criticism is appreciated as always :D


End file.
